


I Will Go To You Like The First Snow

by Am000zing



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Death, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Homophobia, I never watched Goblin, Implied Sexual Content, Iwaizumi's POV, M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not sure if there's fluff but prob, POV First Person, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Conflict, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, i just like the song, i'd like to say sorry in advance, setting too, the story is based off of mx's all in mv btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Am000zing/pseuds/Am000zing
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is the lone survivor of the tragedy. He knows that drinking away the pain will only make the memories hurt more, thus decides to write the legacy of his friends. Especially when it came to a particular boy that made his heart hurt every time he thought about him.This is the tragedy that Iwaizumi writes.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> The village name, Yami (Kanji: 闇), means "darkness".

A small village, Yami, on the rural outskirts. The urban city is quite a miles away, but that doesn’t stop those with power in the city to torment the innocent.

* * *

 

_Before I held you, I didn’t know that the world I was in was this bright._

 

* * *

 

The purple haze of twilight signaled the red lamps hung outside stores to be lit. The flicker of the candles in the lamps casted an golden glow, glimmering the way topaz does in bright light.

Twilight: the ambiguous time. Neither day or night, and not passing for afternoon. Some may call it evening, but to the likes of Iwaizumi Hajime, he knows that twilight is a name unique in itself.

Call it a tragic love story if you must, but be aware that all are victim to the time of twilight.

He, out of the six, was the only one who survived the tragedy. The burden is his to bear, and he has tried too many times to count to kill himself… but he was held back.

Every time he held a knife to his own throat, he’d see the image of the people who sacrificed their lives so that he could live. Every time he attempted to tie a noose, his heart would hurt. It wasn’t because of the grief of loneliness, but the pain of letting down the people who he loved and who loved him.

Time and time again, he would remember.

Remember the knife through his heart, not physically but metaphorically, as he watched the light die out in warm umber eyes; the hand that he held losing heat; the pulse in the wrist slowing to a stop.

 

In the small, quiet town of Yami that he escaped from lay the unapologetic, brutal truths of society. Life can be good to those who are ignorant. But to those who seek knowledge and truth, life only takes, and takes, and takes, and takes, until there is nothing more that its host can sustain it with. Then it moves on.

 

Iwaizumi knew drinking off the memories won’t suppress them. They’ll only keep haunting him in his dreams. He couldn’t confide in anyone, either because they were dead or because the people he’d confide in would probably end up dead.

He looked out the window of his small cottage. There was no moon the night he wrote of his tale.

But the stars were so… bright. The winking of the stars reminded him of someone winking at him, like as if there was some stupid plan concocted to annoy the other little friends of the town…

Iwaizumi smiled a little.

He walked over to his small wooden desk, a calico cat snoozing on top of his blank papers. Sitting down, he took the pen out of the inkwell, and tapped the sides of it a little to make sure the ink wouldn’t clot when he wrote. Iwaizumi tugged a piece of paper under the cat, and began to write.


	2. The First Conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's all in Iwaizumi's POV, so it's pretty much first person from here on out. But if anyone wants a POV from a diff character, I'll be sure to add it in.

_I reached you with a small breath of life._

_It’s a love that called out to me fearlessly._

* * *

 

Is ignorance really bliss? Sometimes I think life would have been better off if I never found out about the ugly truths that run the world.

The small, quiet village of Yami was pretty peaceful when I lived there in my early life. But when the police from the urban city started to frequent the village, it angered Oikawa.

 

Oh, Oikawa, if you only didn’t decide to voice your anger against them that day. If you didn’t do it, then maybe the kind of ending we were forced into didn’t have to happen. We could’ve lived a nice life together… of course, away from your father. A casual, almost newlywed-like life.

 

But maybe this kind of unhappy ending was inevitable for living years of peace under oppression. Is it something we deserved for never fighting back?

 

The police officers disturbed the peace and quiet of the village: laughing at the state of the houses, catcalling women no matter the age or marital status, driving back to the city, having drunk all the alcohol without paying.

 

I’ll first give a brief rundown of our group: Iwaizumi Hajime (me); Oikawa Tooru (dumb fluffy brunette); Kuroo Tetsurou (someone who actively watches the world burn); Kenma Kozume (someone who passively watches the world burn); Bokuto Koutarou (maniac); Akaashi Keiji (has a thing for the maniac).

 

Many of the villagers here are pretty religiously devout, which means church on Sundays. The bell rings atop the tower, and everyone wears their best, cleanest "Sunday" clothes as they make their way to the white building. The pews are practical and wooden, and the wood reflects the rainbow of colors from the intricate mosaics that are the windows and skylights.

Because of everyone being religious, there are… certain people.

Aka there are people who abuse the power they hold in the church to dictate norms.

There are kind, decent people who are religious because religion has lighted their lives and given them hope, I know. But just because there are good people, it doesn’t mean everyone is good. Acts of hate cannot be justified by a book they claimed made their actions right.

 

So… that day. We saw the police at it again. A small group of them, I believe 3 or 4, were jabbing with their guns at two elderly men who were selling old slippers in front of a small shop. They were jeering at the two elders:

   Police 1: Hey, why are you selling these, huh? Who would other to buy this shabby shit anyways?

   Police 2: Hey… isn’t it illegal to sell things if you don’t have a government license?

   Police 3: Everything belongs to the capital, didn’t you know that you filthy peasants?

 

Oikawa snapped, but (thank gods) not violently. Of course, he wasn’t the only one who was ticked at the presence of these policemen.

 

   Kuroo: Oh? Well look what we have here.

   Oikawa: I’ll have you know that they actually do have licenses, and that these men used to work in the city. Before, you know, your precious capital leader decided that they weren’t necessary for the economy.

   Bokuto: They’re selling slippers for cheap here, too--

   Akaashi: --So don’t bother slandering them.

   Police 1: Who do you think you guys are--

   Bokuto: Do you really want to threaten us?

Bokuto took the end of the gun that one of the officers had and put it to his temple.

   Bokuto: I thought the capital punished the police for acting as if they had more power than the current leader? Oh, the irony, really.

I then chimed in, “A capital that abuses their own power doesn’t even let its workers have self-autonomy… Haven’t you ever thought about that predicament yourselves? Or are you just robots?" Oikawa bitterly spat, “Don’t touch these innocent men, or this village.”

But Kenma, oh sweet Kenma. He quietly walked up to the officers, holding a single azure delphinium. He looks at them, and quietly speaks: “Learn to love Love, instead of power. Maybe you’ll realize how that works out for you better.”

He places the flower in the barrel of the gun that a police officer is holding. The officer looks startled, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. Kuroo walks up behind Kenma, placing his hand on the smaller's shoulder, and calmly tells the officers, “We’re actually treating you quite nicely right now. So leave quietly, won’t you?”

The officers leave, while we were still a mini wall in front of the elders. I remember feeling pride, and looking over at Oikawa and feeling pride for him. The determination and fire in his eyes…

The elders tried to pay us back with money and/or dinner, but we refused. When they kept pushing, Kenma went to them and calmly smiled, holding their hands.

“It doesn’t cost anything to help someone in need.”

Akaashi walked over as well, giving each of the elders a hug.

 

I remember seeing Kuroo look at Kenma, and feeling almost embarrassed at how many emotions were twisting and turning in his eyes. The love they had was so innocent, so pure, so _real_. Kuroo probably was the worst sinner out of all of us, but when it came to Kenma, all the mischief was gone and replaced with raw emotion.

I’m sure Kuroo also wondered what I wondered at that time: How could someone be as precious as the delphinium flower that he put in the soldier’s gun barrel?

 

From my side, you, Oikawa. Latching onto my arm, with an unreadable glint in your eyes.

 

If I were to compare you to a flower, like how I did with Kenma and a delphinium, I would think a rose would be suitable.

So beautiful and fragile, yet with thorns that will make anyone touch it bleed. But the blood that is spilled from those thorns would be the purest of this world, much like the blood of that rose.

 

I placed my rough hand over yours, and we just stood there in silence.


	3. Acacia

_I liked it so much_

_Watching over you, my heart fluttering_

_Even when I was ridiculously jealous_

_All of those ordinary moments_

* * *

 

All of our relationships were discreet. In that setting, no one will approve of homosexual relationships the way the church manipulated the texts to the followers’ ears. To the common eye, we were just a group of older teenage boys that were an exclusive clique (gods, Oikawa you just loved being “exclusive”).

But in all honesty, we’re all hella gay.

Who knew how Bokuto managed to stay discreet about his adoration for Akaashi, he’s so whipped for Akaashi (though Akaashi is the same in all honesty. I remember one time I went to visit Akaashi’s because my mom needed more flour and wow I do not want to remember that time ever again. I’ve never seen Bokuto that tame before, I’ll leave it at that.)

 

We have our own designated hangout location. It was underneath a concrete bridge that used to overlook a river, which was drained and to make way for the semi-industrialization of our small village. What would have been layers of soil and fields of wild grass and flowers were instead ugly, grey concrete plastered evenly so that trucks could pass through. But we rarely even get visitors from the city; why would we?

We laugh and play, our minds returning to early ages of youth. Playing around in empty discarded boxes, banging metal bars and old pots together, singing to songs that we created; we’re 6-year-olds again. As the sun slowly sets, the innocence is slowly replaced by intimacy. Bokuto wraps his arms around Akaashi; Kenma clings onto Kuroo’s head as he piggybacks on the shoulders of the messy-haired dude.

Me and you.

Us.

I thought you could hear my heart beating whenever you got too clingy… When I brushed you off, I could feel the heat from my fingers tingling. At that time I hoped you didn’t notice, but you were always too clever for your own good. You probably knew. And now reminiscing… I hope you did know how much I…

 

What felt like minutes later felt like hours when our fun is cut by the presence of few.

I remember the look on Akaashi’s face, the… fear.

There is a man dressed all in black, with a white religious emblem on his chest. His wrinkles show signs of stress and aging, but his posture showed dominance and strength. In his hands was the holy book, and beside the man were two others dressed in similar attire.

The man is clearly glaring at Akaashi and Bokuto. Bokuto, who had his arms around Akaashi from behind, quickly puts them at his sides. Akaashi holds the man’s gaze apprehensively.

The man is Akaashi’s father, and the high priest at the church; The chief manipulator of the texts.

His father’s voice is haughty and steady, remarking, “I thought I told you to stay away from these troublemakers.”

“They’re not troublemakers, they’re my friends--”

“The police that were patrolling here informed me of how you and your little posse interfered with their work and business, which is not what I expected out of you.”

“They were harassing the villagers!”  
“They were doing their _job_.”

Akaashi’s face was turning red, and I began to worry about the result of this argument.

“Just because it’s their job, it doesn’t make what they were doing _right_.”

“I did **not** raise you to speak back at me.”   
“I’m telling you how it happened. You shouldn’t believe in the kind of rhetoric they’re using! I thought the scripture preached truth among all things and you’re not--”

Before Akaashi finished his sentence, his father smacked him across the face. Akaashi kept his face turned down, the cheek that his father slapped red.

“First I hear about the rumor of your… same-gender encounters, and now you’re talking back at me? I thought I taught you better… some ‘son’ I have.”

His father swiftly turns around, and walks away from us. Akaashi keeps his head down, not bothering to look up.

“I didn’t expect my son to be some demented faggot.”

When his father and the other men are gone from sight, the tears that Akaashi held in begin to fall. Salty tears plopped onto the cold cement, and his hands, balled into fists, were trembling. Fear? Anger? No one knows except him and probably Bokuto, who was tenderly kissing his cheeks and enveloping him in a gentle hug. Akaashi doesn’t move from his original position, and continues to silently cry.

 

I remember the look on your face. Even though twilight fell and the purple haze of the sky should have shadowed your features, I still remember the anger on your face, the injustice that I knew you wouldn’t let disappear. That grudge never left the back of your mind, no matter how many times I told you that it was inevitable and that we had to live with it. Was it your grudge that killed you? Or was it your grudge that saved us from ignorance?

I feel ashamed now thinking that at that time I believed it was something we were supposed to deal with. I never thought twice about the toxic culture, but that was probably because you were there to help me ease the pain of secrecy. I feel ashamed thinking I could change your mind, someone who has to deal with worse than what Akaashi has to deal with.

 

After a couple of minutes, Akaashi speaks in a hoarse, warbling voice, “Let’s do the thing today.”

Bokuto draws back from Akaashi, hands remaining on his shoulders.

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t you take a break and sleep it off--”  
“Kou’, I want to get high and forget.”

It’s silent. Tears no longer fall from Akaashi’s eyes. Bokuto looks up and gives a questioning look to Kuroo, who usually oversees the stocks.  
“Kuroo… is there enough for today?”

“Yea, I think we can handle this night.”

“Alright great.”

“Usual spot bro?”

“Hell yea bro.”

Kenma rolls his eyes, casually wrapping his arms around Kuroo from the side. Akaashi lightly laughs, burying his face into the crook of Bokuto’s neck. Bokuto moves his arms down to wrap them around Akaashi.

 

I don’t know how Kuroo has the money or connections to have marijuana delivered personally to him every week, but it happens. To avoid being caught, we meet up in an old, abandoned greenhouse on the outer edge of the village.

 

 

You were still quiet from the encounter, so I held your hand. The surprise on your face made me want to laugh, but I knew that the surprise wasn’t from me instigating the intimacy, but from being snapped back into reality. I couldn’t laugh when your eyes were still deep in anger and in thought.

You turned your hand a little to lace them with my fingers, and you laid your head against mine.

We stood like that for a while.

 

 

Tonight, at the command of Akaashi, we get high to forget the events of that day. We know it’s not a permanent cure, but what harm is there to forget for a night?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Victorian language of flowers, Acacia represents secret love, friendship, and elegance.


End file.
